


Out of the Dark

by The_White_Rabbit42



Series: Home for the Holidays [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_White_Rabbit42/pseuds/The_White_Rabbit42
Summary: Sometimes being put in the dark forces you to reach for the light.





	Out of the Dark

This was not how you imagined spending your time with him, huddling in front of a fire, wrapped in blankets, just trying to make it through the night without freezing to death.  

 

Your first instinct when the power had gone out had been that something was wrong.  After a thorough check of the house (with Gabriel in tow because apparently staying put was _not_ an option for him), you’d finally come to the conclusion it was the heavy snow that was responsible for the lights.  

 

You’d still been tempted to put a line of salt in all the doors and windows, just to be safe.  He’d talked you out of that project in lieu of something much more fun involving the old board games you’d found in the basement and a freshly opened bottle of schnapps.  

 

_ “I can’t believe I’m drinking this straight from the bottle,” you winced, more at the way you could feel your integrity dissolving with each swig than from the taste.  You’d learned to tolerate just about any type of alcohol, though this last year you had become an expert.   _

 

_ “Hang onto that bottle, sweet cakes, because B-8.”  He smirked triumphantly as you groaned, your last battleship sunk before you’d managed to even get two of his.  This time the face you made had everything to do with the copious amount of liquid you had to force down your throat for being the loser and the fast approaching inebriation you could feel flooding your veins.  _

 

_ Why again had you thought it was a good idea to play anything remotely strategic against someone who’d had thousands of years to study it?  He’d been on the sidelines spectating every battle that ever made it into the history books as a tactical innovation. _

 

You probably would have ended up passed out before dinner if he hadn’t taken mercy on you and switched to games based more on chance.  

 

You landed in the pleasantly buzzed range, making it harder for you to resist those little subtleties of his.  The way his eyes would crinkle in the corner when you could get him to laugh or when you teased a real smile out of him.  The shy way he’d drop his gaze when you made a particularly bold remark.  How he periodically would tuck his hair behind his ears making it curl even more at the ends and jut out in different directions.

 

It also made it difficult to detect when exactly the heat stopped working.  

 

_That_ didn’t matter so much as when you could expect it to be fixed.  With the way the snow continued to steadily fall, the answer was _not anytime soon._  The silver lining had been the gas stove and cans of soup you’d found stashed in your friend’s apartment, affording you at least a hot dinner, though the plentiful supply of alcohol you had certainly hadn’t hurt either.  

 

_Gabriel’s eyes perused one of the few full cabinets in the_ _house, and he simply gave you a look._

 

_ “What?”  You asked, pulling down the spiced rum so you could get the hot apple cider started. _

 

_ “Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but I think you might have a problem.” _

 

_ You stared at him a second, before reaching across his body.  The movement brought you nearer, his breath ghosting briefly over your skin.  The warmth tickled at your nose, a sharp contrast to the chill that refused to let it go.  His eyes dropped curiously down, to what you weren’t sure, as you opened the cabinet next to him revealing a plethora of hot chocolate, candy, and other sweet treats.   _

 

_ “You were saying?”  You took a step back, folding your arms over your chest.   _

 

_He took one look at his stash before casually_ _closing the door.  “Forget I said anything.”_

 

You glanced over at him, watching the firelight flicker over his features.  Gold became saturated with orange tones, painting it closer to bronze.  The shadows that danced along with the lively colors made his profile even more striking than before.  You weren’t conscious of the snapshot forming in your mind, or how this moment would become one of many memories that would bring a smile to your face years later, only that, for a brief moment, you felt a sense of awe and appreciation.  

 

You could still see it, that unmistakable infiniteness that had always accompanied his presence.  Before, it had only ever been something your instincts had grasped at, something you knew was inherently him, but always remained just outside your understanding.  In this moment, it was tangible, radiating along warmth saturated hues until he almost glowed.  

 

He reminded you of dusky sunlight during a late Indian summer, and you wondered, would he feel just as pleasant on your skin if you reached out and touched him?

 

That should have been your first clue that maybe now was a good time to stop drinking.  

 

He had grown quiet again this evening, retreating to this thoughts.  Now that he was less distant, you found yourself more curious about where his mind took him than concerned.  Of course him remaining present came with its own set of drawbacks.  

 

“What?”  He glanced sideways at you and you froze.  

 

“I was just - I was wondering...” your sudden loss of mastery over the English language should have been your  _ second _ sign to put your drink down.  The third and most telling indication was how dangerously close you were to blurting out  _ do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?   _

 

“...how are you hands?”  You finished lamely, earning yourself a high arching sweep of his brow.  Your cheeks exploded with heat and you casually tried to hide it behind your mug.  You took a large swallow of apple cider which, unfortunately, delivered another hefty dose of rum to your system.

 

“For starters, they’re down here,” he wiggled his fingers along his cup for emphasis, his eyes twinkling.  “But, you tell me, doc.”   

 

He set down his mug before holding out both for inspection.  You put your own drink aside, and the moment your fingertips touched his, a spark of _something_ leapt out through the contact, making you question whether or not he really did have some residual celestial energy kicking around.  

 

Your heart skipped, its cadence thrown off by the ensuing shockwaves that skittered through you as you looked him over.  The rawness was completely healed, but you couldn’t help but notice how dry his skin was.  You unconsciously brushed over a spot between his thumb and forefinger that looked cracked, and you resolved to find something to help with that in town tomorrow.  

 

When you felt how cold his fingers were, you couldn’t help but frown. 

 

The whole reason you had taken him here was not to keep him safe, but so he could also be comfortable.  He didn’t need to run from motel to motel, never fully rested, living off cheap rooms and even cheaper food.  You wanted more for him,  _ better _ , and you had yet to deliver it.  

 

“I’m sorry it’s been so miserable here,” you told him quietly.

 

His hands closed around yours, giving them a light squeeze.  “Don’t worry about it, kid. I can think of worse places to be.”

 

You snorted.  He was probably used to lavishness and luxuries beyond your wildest imagination.  How could this be ok on top of everything else he’d suffered?

 

His fingers eased out from beneath yours and he hooked one under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

 

“I mean it.  I’d rather be here.”  Gold grew bright with something you didn’t understand and a surge of heat and shyness swelled up within you.  Your cheeks began to glow, almost as bright as your chill-kissed nose.  You couldn’t escape his gaze, though you weren’t sure you wanted to as ripples of copper reflected back in your direction, taking on a vibrancy that had been absent since his return.    

 

“You deserve better.”  The emotions you tried to contain bled out through your words and the entire world suddenly stilled as you watched amber grow more intense than you’d ever experienced.  You could have rationalized it as a trick of the firelight, except when everything lurched back to life there was an additional brightness in his eyes, as if some of the tarnish had been scrubbed away.   

 

“You know what you deserve? To be warm.”  He held out his arm, opening up his blanket and offering you a spot inside, and you hesitated, mind whirring as you considered his offer.  “Come on, Rudolph, I don’t bite.  But I  _ do _ get cold now, so the offer is time-sensitive.”  

 

You had never figured out when the exact shift had happened, but somewhere along the way, you had begun to dream of these moments when you had an excuse to be near him.  You looked forward to the next time he might move just a little too close (or allow you to use him as a pillow).  

 

You knew something had changed.  Even your brother had noticed, but you had never allowed yourself to admit it, let alone act on it.  Gabriel had always seemed so far out of your league, but now he was completely on your level, sitting  _ right there _ , and motioning for you to get your ass in gear and get under his arm already.

 

“Clock’s ticking…”  He shook the blanket for extra emphasis.  

 

_ What the hell.  _

 

Little did you know the alcohol had nothing to do with that decision.  It simply removed your uncertainties from the equation, giving you a freedom you had never allowed yourself.   __

 

You slipped out from beneath your blanket, scooting yourself over to him.  As quick as you were to seize the opportunity, you found yourself still unable to fully cross the line.   _ Coward _ you chided as you left a respectable gap.  

 

You expected him to drape his cover around you, leaving your shoulders to touch and nothing more.  The flutter of your heart accelerated as his arm wrapped around you, easing you closer.  

 

“Like I said, kid, I don’t bite.”  His eyes sparkling as he tucked you against his side.  Conflicting warmths spread through his touch.  One was born of comfort, a simple feeling of contentment suffusing through you.  The second spoke of other basic things, of urges and embers with the potential to burn so hot they might sear through your very being if left uncontained.  

 

In the end, the former won out, combined with the calm from the morning that had never fully receded.  The peace that settled over you was even greater than before and there was just something about Gabriel holding you that made all the difference.  

 

“Better?” His voice was a quiet murmur, as if reluctant to break the silence with even a single word.  

 

“Yeah,” you replied just as quietly, resting your head against his as feeling began to return to all the different places the cold had invaded.  

 

***

 

There was so much he wanted to tell you, he just had no idea where to begin.  

 

_ “One cluster at a time…”  You told Dean, the look on your face suggesting you were full up as it was and this was the last thing you needed.   _

 

Did he start by saying he understood just how much of a cluster he was?  

 

He knew now that you hadn’t been talking about him, but it didn’t change the fact he still was one.  As an archangel he’d been fierce, and beneath the snark and mischievous antics had lain a dauntless opponent few could match, let alone overcome.  Without his grace, however, he was just another human.  Vulnerable.  Weak.  Helpless in comparison to what he once was.  

 

How any of you could stand this existence was beyond him.  

 

He was so sensitive to  _ everything _ , the slightest stimulation having the potential to send him into overdrive.  He was constantly on the verge of drowning, the basic shifts from hot to cold overwhelming in and of itself.  Feeling everything acutely through his vessel made him realize, it was no longer just a host.  It  _ was  _ him, and if this was now his body, then that just opened up even more questions than before.  

 

He had more important things to worry about.  Like the demons that had tracked him almost immediately upon his return, forcing him to seek out the Winchesters, or the fact that he was now one hundred percent, undeniably _ human.   _

 

He was going to have to have a word with his father about  _ that _ one, though several colorful ones came to mind whenever he thought about Him.  

 

You hadn’t even batted an eye so far.  You didn’t question his miraculous return.  You didn’t seem bothered by his irritating ineptness.  You weren’t the slightest bit ruffled by the danger he posed, not that he ever thought you would be.  

 

He wanted to tell you how much he appreciated that you even came.  There weren’t many beings that you would be willing to stick their neck out for him, and even fewer humans.  Mostly, he wanted to thank you for not treating him like a burden you couldn’t wait to be rid of.

 

_ “She’ll take him,” Dean clapped.  “And she only hung up on me twice this time.  A win all around.  One ticking time bomb is more than enough for us to deal with.” _

 

_ “Dean… they’re both human,” Sam reminded, trying to impart something far more within that statement than his brother was capable of receiving.   _

 

_ “Yeah, well, one of them isn’t our problem anymore.” _

 

You had never treated him like a nuisance.  He often told himself that’s why he preferred to visit you and your brother, because  _ you _ didn’t demand to know why he was there or look at him like he had some ulterior motive.  True, he often  _ did _ , but it was never as nefarious as everyone else seemed to think.  Entertainment.  Gratification.  Debauchery.  All tied together with the occasional sprinkling of just desserts when the mood struck.  Life had been simple.  

 

Then you came along.  

 

He wanted to tell you that, too, but how could he put into words something he barely understood?  Y _ ou were the monkey wrench in my grand design to fuck my way through existence without actually giving any _ seemed a bit inadequate.  How could he explain all the subtleties and complexities it took for you to even convince him to stand up to his family without ever asking him to directly go to bat for humanity?  

 

Maybe that was why his father had _gifted_ him with this condition.  Because it hadn’t been _the greater good_ that had moved him from inaction, but the thought of one woman (and her annoyingly attached-at-the-hip sibling) and what would become of them should his brothers decide to duke it out with the world as their arena.  

 

He almost couldn’t admit that, even now, but after everything that had happened, there was too much staring him in the face to continue to deny it.  

 

_ He lay on his back, eyes vacantly staring up into a darkness that didn’t exist, at least not on this plane.  Something broke through, snapping him back to reality.  He turned his head, blinking, as the sounds of your whimpering finally registered.   _

 

_ “N...n...n…”  You mumbled, your body twitching.   _

 

_ He knew you occasionally had nightmares.  He’d watched them play out before, fingertips brushing your temple as he short-circuited the way your brain was firing, guiding it toward paths that led to more pleasant memories and thoughts.  The satisfied sighs and little half-smiles he’d glimpse always made him wonder what exactly it was you dreamt about.   _

 

_ He couldn’t do that anymore, leaving him floundering and flustered.  He almost woke you, but rethought that decision when he recalled the time you summoned him to heal your brother’s broken nose, only to find out you’d been the one when he’d tried to rouse you from a nap.   _

 

_ He watched your fist curl tightly on top of the sheets and swallowed.  Maybe there was something you could use.  Something long.  Preferably several feet long. _

 

_ He gave up that line of thought when he realized the only thing at his disposal was an iron poker.  He could only imagine the grief you would give him.   _ **_Do you poke all the girls in their sleep with your rod, or just the lucky ones?_ **

 

_ No, no, he definitely didn’t need that.  Not when he had a hard enough time countering your remarks as it was.    _

 

_ Your soft noises turned to cries, his desperation for a solution increasing as you began to struggle.    _

 

_ “N... _ **_No_ ** _!”  It was your anguish that finally broke him, forcing him to act.  He rolled over, wrapping his arm around you as he settled your back against his chest.   _

 

_ “Shhhhh,” he soothed.  “It’s ok.  It’s not real.” _

 

_ Only whatever it was had to be.  He could feel you splintering apart, your body succumbing to a series of sobs.  Each shudder that rippled through you was another piece that fell away and he held you tighter, hoping to somehow reach you.   _

 

_ “Come back to me, sweet tart.  Come back…” _

 

He had felt so conflicted at first, as though what he was doing was somehow wrong because you didn’t know what was happening, except at some basic, instinctual level.  Slowly you’d relaxed, but he knew just how easy it was to trick a person’s body against them, especially if the mind was absent.  

 

He didn’t want that to be the case, but he didn’t know how to express his desire to comfort you in ways that went beyond the moment, to erase the emptiness that echoed in your eyes, and he certainly didn’t know how to promise you he would be there when he had no way of controlling that now.  

 

He knew how to hold you, however.

 

He had an idea what the dreams were about.  There were a few different names that you’d call out, but more often than not it was your brother’s.  He wanted to tell you he was sorry, that Tony hadn’t deserved it, whatever it was.  Unpleasant, he assumed, and he often wondered if it was worse imagining what really happened or actually knowing now that he was human and had all these new sensations and  _ feelings _ to deal with.  

 

Some of which had Gabriel realizing how much he’d liked the kid, even if Tony had been the biggest pain in the ass for never giving him a moment alone with you.  

 

It never seemed to be the right time for any of it, and anytime the words would make it to the tip of his tongue, they always seemed inadequate.  So he continued to swallow them, but the more he did, the more he found them vying for release in other ways.  

 

He thought he knew what being hooked was like.  Sweets.  Sex.  Anything that brought pleasure or satisfaction in some form or another.  He never seemed to be able to resist any of it.  But now he wanted  _ so much more _ .  

 

He thought his senses were sharp before, but he was just comprehending how blunted they had been, so much of the world lost because he experienced everything down to the most basic molecules all at once.  Now, when he woke up with your scent lingering on him, there was nothing other than that teasing at his senses.  The memory of your hair tickling his face had him craving the next time he’d be able to fold himself around you.  The heat of your body against him, of it curled around him when his own demons came to visit made it that much colder and emptier when you both returned to your respective side of the bed.  

 

He was slowly losing control, unable to resist exploring what other things were like.  

 

_He came up behind you, using the simmering cider as an excuse to casually cage you between_ _his arms as he leaned over your shoulder and inhaled._

 

_ … _

 

_ He could feel the intoxication, his exterior melting away to his more basic impulses.  Using the bathroom as an excuse, he snuck into the fridge, his hands closing eagerly around his prize as he pulled a can of whip cream out and gave it a good shake.  He let out a stream into his mouth, his eyes closing to savor the deliciousness that enveloped his taste buds.   _

 

_ “You know, the great thing about being an adult is not having to make excuses so you can eat whip cream,” you drawled.  His eyes opened wide, caught, and you smirked as you took the can from his hand.  You, too, were feeling the rum’s effects and you squeaked as you overfilled your mouth, sending some dribbling down the front of your chin.   _

 

_ Without thinking he reached out, his finger wiping it at a slow, seductive pace.  He had enough sense to resist offering it to you, although the desire to know how your mouth would feel around  _ **_anything_ ** _ of his almost overpowered any decency he had.  Instead, he popped it between his lips, enjoying the way a curious blush spread across your cheeks, splashing a subtle shade of pink across them he hadn’t seen in quite some time.  _

 

_ He made a note to see what other things could make that color appear _ **_._ ** __

 

The moment he got a taste of something, he found it hard to resist going back for more.  It wasn’t just true of sensory experiences.  

 

This morning when you mentioned growing up in this part of the country, he wished he had the courage to ask you all those questions he never had before.  What was your life like before?  Did you remember your parents?  What made you become a hunter? 

 

He noticed you were different, and he wanted to ask what it was this morning that made you that way.  Was it the snow?  Had you slept better than before?  What exactly was it that was bringing the life back to your features?

 

Whatever it was, he hoped it continued. 

 

You looked so different now.  Everything seemed faded: from the dullness of your hair to the ghostly pallor of your skin, to the listless eyes that used to hold such radiance within them.  It was like someone had snuffed the light right out of your soul.  

 

You didn’t smile as often as you used to, but when you did, it lit up your face in ways that did things to him.  Things he hadn’t had to ever worry about, like his heart skipping beats or suddenly forgetting how to breathe.  He found his brain less apt to formulate those quick, witty responses you were used to, instead stuttering over his thoughts, especially when it came to any sort of innuendo.  

 

Before, you had intrigued him.  Who was this curious little human with the backbone to want to take on the devil and the compassion to never pressure another to do the same?  Now, he felt obsessed.  He wanted to know everything and anything, starting with what he had missed so he knew what to make up for.  He had made so many mistakes across so many millenia, and yet he’d never felt the remorse that he did now when he thought about how he’d you and your brother alone.  

 

He wanted you to know how much  _ he  _ hated being alone, that it was possibly the worst experience out of everything so far.  Even the shower was a conflicting mass of comfort and dread.  He loved the feel of warm water against his skin, of how it seemed to wash away more than just the sweat and dirt from his body.  Only it couldn’t get rid of the voices that intruded in the absence of others.  

 

It was strange, not hearing his family’s chatter in the back of his mind.  He might have run from them, but he never completely shut them out. It made him feel even more isolated and empty than before.  

 

He wanted to tell you how much of a difference you made just being there, how you made all the difference at night when you held him (and yes, that he  _ knew  _ you were doing it).  Your touch was the only thing that seemed to drive that emptiness out completely, making him feel like he was  _ something _ again.   _ Real.   _

 

He didn’t want to just say how much he appreciated the way you took care of him, how you paid attention to the little things so you knew what he liked, or how you could tell he was so chilled he needed a shower.   _ That _ he wanted to show you.  Only he found it much more difficult when he couldn’t just snap what he needed into existence. 

 

For whatever reason, he had been given a second chance.  A slightly sadistic and twisted one, but it was one nonetheless.  He wanted to make the most of it, he just didn’t know  _ how _ . 

 

You shifted within his arms, a pleased sigh escaping as you resettled yourself within the crook of his arm.  He pulled the blanket up around you, the broken heat giving each of you an excuse to abandon your separate sides and take up residency in the middle.  Your arm stretched up, palm settling on his chest.  His heart skipping slightly as if drawn to it and he wondered if you were even aware of what you were doing.  

 

He placed his hand over yours, listening to your breath even out as you fell back asleep.   Contentment flowed through him and the last thought he had before drifting off was he may not know what he was doing, but this seemed like a good place to start.  


End file.
